Shipwrecked
by bewareofdogs
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is being taken to America to participate in an arranged marriage in the hopes to save his family's financial problems. He doesn't want to go, not being in love with the woman. Dr. John Watson (a passenger) and his sister Cecilia (a maid on the ship) are going to America to start over. Will Sherlock find freedom before disaster strikes? Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

The city of Southampton bounced outside of the window as we rode down the cobblestone streets to our destination: the docks. My older brother Mycroft was sitting across from me with Mummy, both talking excitedly to one another about the immensely large ship that was floating in the water before us. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I tried to ignore the sounds of their cheerful giggles and exclamations of awe as they saw the ship. I focused on taking in what would surely be the last I ever saw of my beloved home country. I took in the sights of the houses and pubs, the apothecaries and the newsstands. I tried to remember every detail about the buildings around me, none of them as splendid as those in London, but they will have to do as my last memory of England. I looked at the people walking along the sidewalks, some gawking at the car as we drove by, probably never having ever seen such an elaborate show of wealth in their life outside a horse-drawn carriage. I tried to remember their distinctly British faces and fashion styles as they flew by the windows, wanting to take in everything around me before I am forced onto a boat that would undoubtedly be my undoing.

"Oh, Sherlock, isn't it magnificent," said Mummy. She was smiling at me, her body angled to the window. Her hand rested daintily on the sill, her crème colored glove covering her hands. She held herself up, her back always straight as a sign of her education and wealth. I thought it made her look arrogant and posh.

I gave her a smile and said, "It's marvelous, Mother."

"I just can't wait to see the inside," she said, "I'm told it is to be absolutely beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you, Mother."

She gave me a sly smile and replied, "Flattery, my dear Sherlock, will get you far."

"I've learned from the best."

Her smile darkened, and she returned to looking out the window. I let my smile fall and returned to mine, hoping that she wouldn't try to talk to me again after that. This was all her fault. She was the reason I was being forced out of my comfortable town house and into a cramped looking ship going to America. She had been the one who destroyed my father's fortune, and now she was running from her troubles – and putting me in harm's way.

That is, if you call an arranged marriage as harm.

I did.

The car pulled closer and closer to the mammoth ship, the speed slowing considerably as the crowd around it grew thicker. Eventually we stopped and were forced to exit the car. Mycroft was first out, helping Mummy out and I followed, looking everywhere but the ship in front of me. Behind us, our second car with our luggage came to a halt, waiting for Mycroft to give them instructions. Our long time nanny, Mrs. Hudson, got out of the cab and joined us on the loading docks. She was the one who raised me, and the only one I would ever dare say that I truly cared about in my family. She came to my side and smiled up at me, and I held out my arm to her.

"It's quite the ship isn't it, Sherlock?" She said, wrapping her arm around mine. She wore a purple dress, and I felt very grateful for her choice. If there was anything that made me feel at home on this god forsaken ship, it would be Mrs. Hudson in her ever present purple outfits.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, it is."

"Very elegant."

I sighed, "Yes. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Oh, Sherlock," she frowned, "I know you want to stay here, but just think about the happiness you'll experience when we get to America. Think about your fiancée."

I didn't reply. Instead, I focused my gaze on the ground right in front of me.

An employee of the ship company, hired to handle First Class luggage, came over to help with the process and Mycroft gave him our suite numbers. Mummy, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and I made our way to the docking ramps which lead into the ship. I froze at the base, not wanting to enter, but it was Mycroft's warning side glance and Mrs. Hudson's gentle tug on my arm that kept me going. With slow steps, I felt a weight in my chest grow as I neared the narrow door that was set into the hull of the ship. As I neared it, I felt the weight turn into sorrow as I was leaving my beloved country behind forever.

I was now trapped, a prisoner of Mummy's wishes. A Prisoner of Mycroft's manipulating will. A prisoner of my fiancée's who waited for me in America. A prisoner trapped in the walls of this stupid boat.

I was now a prisoner of the Titanic.

_Dr. John Watson's Point of View_

I've been waiting in line for what seemed like forever; my feet were aching and my leg was hurting. I leaned on my cane to relieve some of the pressure from standing, and it helped a little. I had everything I owned in a bag on my back. I had my papers in my hand waiting to be handed off to the inspector in front of me. I had my ticket in my pocket for the collector at the bottom of the ramp. I was ready to get the hell out of dodge.

The Titanic was my freedom out of here. It was my ride to a land where I would hopefully be hired as a doctor or begin a practice of my own eventually. Being an army doctor who was honorably discharged with a wounded leg wasn't helping me find a job here in England, and I was hoping that in America they would be desperate to hire. I clung to that idea as I waited in line, and I clung to it for dear life.

The line began to move, and I was now next in line. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for a station to clear. A man in a White Star uniform called me over and I handed him my papers of health. He read them over carefully, and said, "Everything seems to be in order sir, I just need to conduct a quick lice, teeth, and lung inspection. It will only take a moment."

I nodded and bowed my head to allow the man to search me for lice, opened my mouth so he could see my teeth, and allowed him to listen through a stethoscope for my breathing. And as he said, it only took a few minutes, and I was free to go onboard. Handing the man at the bottom of the ramp my ticket he smiled, "Welcome aboard the Titanic, sir."

I smiled at him, and said "Thanks" and climbed up into the Third Class deck. I was now a passenger of the R.M.S. Titanic. I looked for signs leading to my cabin, and made my way slowly through the halls to my door. I passed people of different nationalities in the hallway as I went, all of them parting for the man with a cane. A family of Italian decent pressed against the wall, their youngest child smiling up at me and saying hello. I turned a corner and found the numbers leading up to my room and picked up speed. Opening the door I smiled as I entered and set my bag down on a bunk and sighed. Sitting down, I took the weight off of my leg, and I rubbed it making sure everything was okay. Looking around my room, I saw that I would have at least three other roommates, hopefully all men. The room was white, with a single circular window. It had one closet and one sink with a mirror. A sign hung on the wall by the door alerting us to when breakfast, lunch, and dinner are to be served, and where on the decks we were allowed to be. Of course we are able to be on any of the outside decks as we wanted, and most of the inside, but we were highly encouraged to stay within our designated areas.

I sighed and reached into the breast pocket of my coat for the book that I always had with me. It was a collection of works done by the Pearl Poet, a poet that my mother read to my sister and I when we were younger. I had this book in my breast pocket wherever I went, even when I was in service. During the harsher times in Afghanistan I would read this book by what little light I had, and I would know that my family was with me. Tucked away inside the front cover was the only family portrait I had. It had been taken a long time ago when I was only a young boy. My father insisted that we have it done so we would always remember that we were a family. He died soon after it was taken. My mother gave it to me when I went into the service to always remind me that I had something to come home to. She too died: while I was in Afghanistan. The little girl in the photo was my younger sister Cecilia, she was the one who gave me the book. On the title page in delicate writing was the message she left for me. It read "To keep your heart adventurous and your head level." She was working as a maid on this very ship, looking to get off in America and stay there working for the White Star company in New York. She was assigned to one of the upper class suites, and would be off late. She told me she'd meet me out on the decks when she had a chance.

Setting the book down on my bed, I lay down and closed my eyes. The ship had a natural rock to it already, the small waves in the harbor pushing the massive thing side to side, up and down. It wasn't long before I felt myself start to drift to sleep, and finding that right now, no nightmares were plaguing me.

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

Mummy, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, and I found our suites. I was shown to my room, which was disgustingly luxurious. The bed was lined with silk sheets that had never been slept in. The walls were wood with elegant carvings gilded in what looked like gold leaf. The wardrobe was mahogany and grand, the carpet a rich merlot with some sort of plant interwoven in it. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the room gave a soft golden glow, and it was all I could do to keep myself from gagging. Mycroft on the other hand was marveling with Mummy about how beautiful everything was. How grand it all was. How utterly perfect it all was. In-between exclamations Mycroft's voice could be heard directing the serving staff where to put everything. I went back into the drawing-room and picked up my brief case, holding it in my hand.

"Sir, I could take that for you," said one of the chamber maids. She was young and far too pretty to be in this line of work. She had chocolate-brown hair that was tucked under her white bonnet, not a strand out-of-place. Her skin was softly tanned, suggesting that she has spent time outside. I thought of mother and tried to picture her spending time outside, but couldn't quite do it. This maid had soft brown eyes and was trying to hide her anxious want to finish all she had assigned to her, no doubt longing to be with someone on board – a man perhaps?

"Not this one," I said, "I'll take care of it."

She nodded, "Right, sir." Giving what appeared to be either a genuine smile or a very good fake, she turned and proceeded to help unpack and store the rest of my belongings. I took a moment to admire her thin figure before I shifted them elsewhere. Taking my bag, I turned to look out the open door onto the private promenade deck that we had. Going out, I walked over to the edge, looking out a window, and debated on whether or not to make a jump for it. My brother, however, sensing my pondering, came out.

"Beautiful, isn't she."

"Yes, quite," I said, "However, I do have a feeling it is far too luxurious for our… current pay grade."

"I wasn't talking about the ship," he said.

"Then what were you talking about?" My voice was low and toneless, giving away my obvious irritated mood.

Mycroft gave a deep and almost sinister smile as he replied, "Your chamber maid. If it weren't for her predicament, I would have loved to taste that."

"Don't be lewd, Mycroft, although it suits you all too well. And what predicament?"

He chortled, "Her being a maid, of course! A working class girl. God, what would the gossips say if it were to actually happen?"

"Oh I don't know, Brother Dear. Perhaps they would say 'At least the Holmes's are where they belong now.'"

Mycroft frowned. "We don't belong with _them, _Sherlock. We are better than them. Always have been, and always will be. Besides, with your upcoming marriage, I doubt we will be threatened by money ever again." And with an added smug little smile, Mycroft left me to my thoughts once more.

I looked down to my brief case and longed for everyone to finish fussing about and settle down. I looked at my hand that rested against the case and held it out only for it to tremble a bit. I inhaled sharply, and reached into the inside breast pocket of my jacket and pulled out my case of cigarettes. Taking one up, I held it between my lips as I fumbled around for a lighter. Setting the paper and tobacco on fire, I inhaled on my end of the small cylinder and I let the smoke out in a sigh. I felt the drug of the small object move through me and I felt myself begin to relax. Tightening my hold on my briefcase, I stood looking out at the harbor, and I felt my heart turn to a state of stone.

"Sir?" I turned to see the chamber maid from before, "Sir, we are about to depart. Would you like to join your family on one of the upper decks?"

I wanted to shout no, but instead I said, "Yes. Thank you."

"Might I take your briefcase to your room, sir?"

"No. I have it."

"Yes, sir." She smiled and moved out of the doorway allowing me to enter back into the drawing-room. I rushed into my room and stowed my briefcase under my bed, taking a moment to talk myself into letting it go. Finally standing up, I exited to find her waiting.

"What?"

"I have been ordered to escort you up by your brother, sir." She said.

I frowned. Of course Mycroft would want to make sure I made it there in one piece. I watched her stand still, not giving any sign of impatience. Not once did she shift her weight from one side to the other, her expression didn't break or drop. No, she simply stood with her hands clasped in front of her like she was supposed to. Sighing I said, "Alright, lead the way."

She gave that puzzling smile again, and turned to open the door for me. I let her lead me through the labyrinth of the ship taking me to the sun room where my family could be seen standing by the window talking to God only knew who. The maid took me across the room and stood to the side waiting for me to complete my journey.

"Ah, Sherlock," said Mycroft, "How nice of you to join us."

I gave a quick smile and stood next to Mummy silently as she introduced me to our party. I looked over at Mycroft who was talking to my chamber maid, giving her instructions. She smiled and curtseyed before leaving. As she turned away, I saw her face falter for a moment as her disappointment raged through her, but it was gone in an instant. She weaved her way through the gathering crowd of rich people, and then disappeared down a servant's passage. I turned my attention back to my party, catching Mycroft's gaze. I glared at him and he responded by giving me his usual smug smile.

"Sherlock," Mummy said, "Don't be rude."

Turning my attention to Duke Whose-its-name, I smiled and held out my hand for him to shake. If there was one thing I was absolutely sure about this trip, it was going to be hell.


	2. Chapter 2

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

I went back to the Holmes suite like I was asked to by Mycroft. I had hoped to find my brother while the ship was taking off, but I guess he would have to wait. I have been directed by Mycroft to continue straightening the suit to make sure that it looks perfect for when they get back. I was to continue unpacking the clothing and place them in the wardrobes, and make sure the other staff was doing the same. When I reentered the suit I found Molly Hooper and Sally Donovan, fellow maids, already straightening the place up. I smiled at them and entered the room I was assigned to and began to unpack the young Holmes's suitcases. I hung up his shirts, suits, and pants in the wardrobe, and placed his undergarments, sleeping clothes, and socks in the dresser provided. I organized the socks by color and pattern, hoping that it would make his finding a nice pair easier for him. I hung his ties up on hooks on the wardrobe door and made sure they all were nice and untangled. I took out his bathroom necessities and placed them around the sink, arranging his shaving cream and knife and colognes in a nice array around the ceramic bowl.

I was so busy unpacking everything and arranging them in useful ways around the room, that I didn't notice the occupant of the room standing in the door way watching me. I'm sure had I noticed him, I wouldn't have continued humming as I worked. Turning to leave, I saw him and gasped with the initial shock. He was leaning against the door way, his grey eyes on me obviously having had watched me for some time.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, "You gave me a fright. I didn't see you there."

"You seemed to have kept busy."

I nodded, "Just doing what your brother asked me, sir."

He gave a shallow smile as he entered the room. He moved over to me, his tall figure looming over me. He looked down at me, and seemed to study me for a moment before asking, "Do you have anyone else on board?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Do you have anyone else on board? A significant other, a boyfriend, a fiancé, anyone?"

I blushed and I replied, "I do, sir."

"You're anxious to see him."

I nodded, "I'm sorry, sir. I thought I was doing a better job hiding it."

He smiled then looked up over my head, "You were. I just happen to be more in-tuned to human behavior than most."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Why don't you go to him?"

I frowned, "I would love to sir, but I'm on duty here until after dinner."

"What if I commanded you to?"

I looked up at him, "Why would you do that? If you don't mind me asking, sir."

He gave me a confused look and said, "Because I don't want you in my room."

I gave a jump and moved to leave, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll be right out."

"Go see your man," he said, "And if my brother gives you any grief, tell him I ordered you to."

I smiled, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Just be back to wake me for dinner."

"Will do, sir."

I closed the door behind me, and I gave a large smile.

"What's go you in such high spirits?" asked Molly.

"He just ordered me to see John." I felt myself smiling wider.

Molly and Sally looked at each other and gave surprised looks. Turning back to me, Sally waved her hands, "Well, what are you hanging 'round here for? Go on!"

I smiled and worked hard to control my excitement so I didn't go running out of the room. I made my way swiftly down the ornate hallways of the first class floors to a stairwell leading to the lower decks. I thought I would try his room first before looking for him outside. Reaching steerage, I moved through the white hallways full of buzzing people and found my brother's cabin. I knocked on the door and had a man open it.

"You're in the wrong place, luv," he said, "No firs' class folks in 'ere."

I smiled, "Hello, I was wondering if my brother John Watson was in?"

"Nah, 'e's outside."

I smiled and curtseyed, "Thank you, sir."

He smiled, "No need to sir me, miss, the name's 'Enry. 'Enry Knight."

I smiled again, "Well thank you, Henry."

"No problem at all, miss."

Turning back, I weaved through the people again returning to the stairwell. I walked up a few flights and went out to D deck, where the third class people are allowed to spend their time. I stood just outside the doorway, scanning the decks for any immediate sign of my brother. Not being able to, I decided I would go to the front of the boat. If I knew my brother, which I did, I knew I would find him there. I walked the length of the boat, weaving between people who were getting their last glimpse of England before we pulled port in France. I climbed up a level and sure enough, I saw my brother at the bow of the ship, a cane in hand. I smiled and snuck up behind him before covering his eyes with my hands.

"Guess who." I said.

He gave an excited cheer and turned, wrapping me in a hug. "Cee! Oh!"

I laughed, "John!"

He lifted me off the deck and twirled me in a circle before setting me down, still hugging me. "Oh, I missed you."

Tears filled my eyes as I held my older brother and I replied, "I did too."

Pulling away, he tried to hide the fact that he too was crying, and held my face in his hands. "Look at you. All dolled up. What are you doin' out here? Aren't you supposed to be changing sheets?"

I smiled, "I was ordered to come find you."

"Ordered?"

I frowned, "Yeah. But I don't care what it was. I'm just so happy to see you."

John leaned in and kissed my forehead before pulling me into another hug. Pulling away, I pointed at the cane, "What's that for?"

"My leg," he said, "I'm hurt."

"Is it serious?"

He shook his head, "I'm already better. I just have it because my leg hurts when I travel."

I smiled, "As long as I don't have to take care of you when we get to America."

He laughed, "Not a chance."

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

I locked the door after the maid left, feeling a sense of relief that I was finally alone. I turned the chandelier off, leaving on a lamp on my bedside table. I removed my bow-tie, throwing it onto my bed, removing my jacket next. I let the jacket drop to the floor, not caring if the expensive material wrinkled or would become ruined. It wasn't like I had enough jackets to compensate for it. I kicked off my shoes, but kept my socks on. I was going to be as relaxed as I could for this. Unbuttoning the first few slots of my shirt, I reached under my bed and retrieved my briefcase. Snapping it open, I took out a brown leather case followed by a pouch. I sat on the bed, not bothering with any of the covers. All I cared about was this.

Opening the leather case, I took out my syringe and attached a needle to the end. Setting that down on the hard wooden table, I prepared the content that would go into it. Loading the cavity with my sweet, sweet drug, I used the bow-tie to cut off my blood circulation above my left elbow, rolling the sleeve up to keep it out of my way. Slapping the bend in my arm gently, I found my vein and stuck the needle into it, ejecting the joy into my arm. Instantly a rush came to me, and I was thrown back into the pillows with the inertia of it. I smiled and I let my body relax and let my brain to all the work.

I do this whenever I find myself bored. I do this when conversation wasn't nearly as entertaining as it ought to be. I love the effect it had on me, the rush it gave to my brain. I use it to come up with different theories about life or about a problem I was having. In London, I was sometimes asked to help assist the Scotland Yard solve particularly hard murder cases. If I ever became stuck, which wasn't that often, I will do this to clear my head from any unnecessary information that the case might present, which again I didn't have to do that much. I use this to go into my mind, to the far reaches that I didn't visit much. I use this to store new things, organize things. I love it.

Opening my eyes, I was the closest thing to feeling alive as I could be. I looked around my room and saw how everything had been placed. The maid had a peculiar sense of organization. Everything was put in a highly logical location and arranged in a way that made it the easiest for me to maneuver things. Getting up, I studied my sink and found myself surprised that she had arranged everything in the order which I normally used them. I found the wardrobe organized the same, the whites of my shirts organized by brightness starting with stark and ending with eggshell. My sock drawer was the one thing that made me truly surprised with my chamber maid. The socks were arranged in colors, and by likeness of patters within the color. It was how I organized them at home. Going back to my bed, I lay down again, and folded my hands over my stomach, closing my eyes.

I let my mind drift to wherever it wanted, and surprisingly enough, it drifted to her. My mind went over her features again. I thought about her chocolate-brown hair that went well with her soft eyes. I found myself studying her lips, remembering how her cupid's peak bowed down into an arch – very stunning on her. I thought about her figure and thought how refreshing it was to have a maid that was thin and obviously healthy, instead of the old, plump ones that my brother insisted on employing at home. I let my mind trace her figure, going over the delightfully full curves of her chest, down over her flat stomach, and over the modest curve of her hips and bottom. I found myself smiling to myself as I did this, and realized that I was feeling something interestingly refreshing.

I was experiencing lust.

I have had my share of beautiful women in my time in London, but none of them ever sparked my fancy or intrigue like this woman does. Never had any of them made it into my mind as I let it wonder. It was interesting that this feeling didn't come to me when I met my fiancée. I remember looking at the woman and feeling nothing. I looked at her dark auburn hair, her brilliant eyes, her red lips, and her curvy body, and I remember feeling nothing but disgust. It was interesting that someone from a working class family would spark my interest more than someone who came from a family far richer than my own.

I pushed the woman out of my mind, and went back to my maid and let my mind think about her, categorizing her into different parts of my mind. Never once did I think about the fact that she had someone on board that held her fancy. Never once did I think that she was off-limits to me. Obviously I reminded myself that I shouldn't pursue her because it would be wrong on many levels, and possibly get her fired, but part of me kept saying that I really didn't care.

I lay in my bed and let the drug course through me, making my brain light up with its speed and energy, and then I let it wear off, allowing me to drift into a state of calm. From the drawing-room I could hear that my brother and Mummy had returned. Their voices could be heard mixing with Mrs. Hudson's all talking about how anxious they were to be off from France to Ireland and eventually off to sea. I shut them out and allowed myself to continue to fall into my calm and relaxed state, eventually leading to sleep. Soon, the world was nothing but whatever my REM cycle made of it.

_John Watson's Point of View_

I walked around the deck with my sister on my arm. She was talking about all of things I had missed while I was away in Afghanistan. She told me about mum and how she had died peacefully in her sleep. She told me of a few blokes she had dated, but broke up with. Then she told me about preparing for this job, and how it was no different from working in the hotel she worked in back in London, but how it was a huge step up. She spoke through our arrival in France, and didn't leave to help with anything, saying that she didn't have to. Lunch in the first two classes was served, and she managed to sneak out a plate of finger sandwiches for us. While we ate, she continued to talk and I let her. I missed the sound of her voice. I had my hand on her hand that was wrapped around my arm, and I held onto her, happy that I finally had my family with me. My cane hung on my free arm.

"Well what about you," she asked, "How was Afghanistan?"

"Boring," I said with a laugh, "I didn't really do much. There was no fighting."

"How did you get shot, then?"

"Well, I say there was no fighting. What I should say was that there was no war. England withdrew troops in 1882, remember? We're only there to make sure that the government doesn't mess things up too harshly. But we're not that concerned with it. Most of our efforts are in making deals with France and Russia."

Cecilia nodded. "So you were attacked randomly?"

I nodded, "Yes. I was helping an Afghani family when terrorists attacked my clinic. I was shot, and some others were killed."

She looked horrified, "All of that violence even after Britain is gone?"

"It's part of the reason why we've still got some troops left. We let the country deal with the problems mostly, but occasionally we feel a bit of the heat."

She frowned, "I'm just glad you're back."

I smiled, and we continued walking. My leg began to feel weak and soon an ach came. We found a bench to sit on, and I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out the book of poems. She gasped when she saw it, then smiled.

"You still have this old thing?"

"I had it with me wherever I went."

She looked up at me, shocked, "Really?"

I nodded. Opening it, I took out our family photo and tears filled her eyes. "I kept the two most important things I had in my breast pocket close to my heart."

Looking at me again, a tear fell down her cheek and she smiled, "We were protecting you."

I smiled, "Something like that."

She took the book from me and turned it to the title page where her message was. Running her fingers over the script she smiled again. "Glad to see my message went to heart."

I smiled, "You bet it did. Level headed, that's me."

She laughed and gave the book back. I returned the picture to its place and returned the book to its pocket. The grabbed the clock on the brooch she wore on her chest and sighed. Looking back at me, she looked sad.

"You have to go."

Nodding she said, "Yes. I have to wake up my charge so he can be ready for dinner."

"Ah, dinner."

She frowned, "Third class dinner isn't that bad."

"Really?"

She frowned more, but then smiled, "I'll sneak down somethin' for you."

I laughed, "Make it a dessert."

"Done."

Standing, I walked her to the upper level decks and to a door that would lead her inside. I gave her a kiss. "See you after dinner."

"Yes. Meet me outside the servant's quarters, and I'll let you in."

Smiling I placed a kiss on her forehead and watched her leave before returning to D deck myself. Having enough of the fresh air, I went back to my cabin to find Henry still there.

"Did you go outside at all," I asked with a smile.

"Not at all, mate," he said, "Don' like the cold. Plus, I get a bit sea sick if I stay outside a while."

I frowned, "I'm sorry."

"It's nothin' I can' handle," he gave me a big smile, "Jus' as long as there's no hounds outside. Hate dogs I do."

I laughed. "Ready to go to dinner?"

He nodded, "Yeah, le' me pu' on me jacket, and I'll be ready."

"Take your time."

"Man I'm starvin'," he said, "If it weren' for that stop in France takin' over our lunch, I would complain."

A twinge of guilt swept through me at my somewhat full stomach, but I didn't say anything. He grabbed an old moth-eaten and torn up jacket from the chair he was standing next to, and we made our way to the dining room to get our first meal on the Titanic.


	3. Chapter 3

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

I entered the Holmes suite to find the elder brother, Mycroft, sitting in the drawing-room. Standing up he looked angrily at me. "Where were you?"

"I was spending time on deck, sir."

"While you were supposed to be here?"

I didn't flinch at his intense stare. Instead I said, "Mr. Holmes told me to while he slept. He had no need of me."

"Mr. Holmes," Mycroft seemed to scoff, "Mr. Holmes – and is he still asleep then?"

I nodded, "Yes sir. I'm to wake him now."

Mycroft frowned then moved out-of-the-way allowing me to move to the bedroom door. I knocked tentatively and said, "Mr. Holmes. I've come to wake you."

There was no sound.

Knocking again I said, "Mr. Holmes? Dinner will be served soon."

Again no sound.

Mycroft pushed me aside and proceeded to bang against the door. "Sherlock," he yelled, "Sherlock, open this door."

Movement could be heard from inside and soon the door cracked open.

"There was no need to shout, Mycroft."

The elder Holmes sighed and said, "Let her come in and help you get ready."

"That would be most improper, Brother Dear."

"Well, dinner starts in twenty minutes, and I want to make sure that you are ready in time."

"I can dress myself, Mycroft."

"Still." Mycroft forced the door open and made a motion for me to enter. I hurried in and stood in a corner, waiting for the younger Holmes – Sherlock as his name was – to give me something to do. The door closed, shutting out the only light in the room. I could hear Sherlock moving through the room and click on the lamp on the bedside table. I looked up at him expectantly, but he didn't look at me. Instead he went to his wardrobe and pulled out parts of a suit. Laying everything down on his bed, I blushed as he began unbuttoning his shirt—the first few buttons of which were already undone. I turned to look at the wall, trying to be as small as I could so he wouldn't think I wanted to be here.

"There is a jacket on the floor," he said, "Pick it up please."

I froze for a moment, not wanting to turn around, but I had no choice. Keeping my eyes on the floor, I found the jacket in question, and picked it up, focusing on it as I straightened it out.

"Shall I hang it up, sir?" I asked.

"Please," he said, "Is it wrinkled?"

"It doesn't appear so, sir."

He didn't respond and I moved to the wardrobe where I took out a hanger and placed the jacket on it. As I reached to hang it back, Sherlock was next to me shirtless. My blush deepened and I turned my back to him and began to move back to my spot when he stopped me.

"Could you grab my shoes while I put on my shirt?"

Turning back, I looked hard at the floor as I returned to the wardrobe and grabbed a pair of shoes from the bottom.

"A bow-tie too, please."

I grabbed a black bow-tie and went to the bed, glad to see him in slacks and a shirt. Setting the shoes on the floor and the bow-tie on the bed, I began to clear off the dirty clothes. As I pulled the old shirt off of the bed, something shiny caught the light, and Sherlock's hands caught mine. Gasping I looked up into his eyes and saw a hint of what might have been anger behind them.

"Don't."

I shook my head, "I'm sorry sir. I was- I was just trying to tidy up for you. Get things out of your way."

As I spoke, I noticed that his gaze had gone from my eyes to my lips. I licked them subconsciously, and my breath caught as he began to lean in. I found that I had inclined my face towards his when there was a knock on his door.

"Sherlock, are you ready?" Mycroft sounded as angry as he had before.

"Almost," Sherlock replied, pulling away and dropping my hands.

I took the shirt over to the hamper where I folded it before placing it in the bottom. I then moved back to my corner of the room, no longer facing the wall since Sherlock was fully dressed. He tied his bow-tie expertly then put on his shoes. Pulling on his jacket, he straightened himself out in the mirror over the sink, and turned to me.

"Leave what's on the bed to me," he said, "You're on duty until dinner?"

I nodded.

"Well, since it is dinner, your shift is over."

I nodded and went to the door. Opening it, I hid my face from Mycroft who was waiting outside, and I made for the door.

"Good night, Cecilia," said Mycroft as my hand was on the handle.

I paused and said, "Good night, sir." Opening the door, I left the room before my embarrassment could become worse. I made my way through the hallways to the dining rooms, opting for the servant passages into the kitchen. I smiled at the staff as I made my way through, picking up what was to be my dinner plate. As I left down another servant passage, I grabbed a plate with chocolate cake on it, and hurried out before anyone saw me. Going down a flight of stairs, I made my way to my cabin, where I saw John waiting for me outside.

He smiled as I got closer, and I returned it. Holding up the dessert, I said "As promised."

His smile grew, "You shouldn't have."

Opening my room, I let him in, and closed the door. Sitting down at a small table, I pushed my dinner plate between us, "Share?"

"Oh yes, please."

I smiled and we began to eat the food.

_John Watson's Point of View_

I told her stories of helping people in Afghanistan. I told her of the children that I saw, the families I helped. Some of them didn't want to come to a British doctor for their problems, many seeing England as the reason for their miseries. But they couldn't argue with a higher standard of medicine than what their country was able to produce. I told her about the Englishmen that had stayed behind of the families I had helped bring into this world, many of them being claimed as British citizens by their parents. I'm sure in a few years they will be sent away by their parents to high-class British boarding schools where they will learn to become soldiers or how to run the country.

I told her of how the weather in the desert was. How on even the worst day it was still hotter than Hades. I described to her what the buildings looked like, how there was no building taller than Big Ben. I told her of the dirt roads in some parts of the town I was stationed at. I told her of the food, and shamelessly adding my aversion to spicy food. She took in every detail, not interrupting. When I finished, she smiled.

"Sounds like a wonderful adventure, John."

I smiled, "You could look at it like that."

She smiled again, then said, "So… I have to bathe. I haven't gotten the chance since the day before yesterday."

"I'll go then."

"You don't have to. There's a small bathroom at the end of the hall, you can sit on the toilet while I shower."

I frowned, "Won't you get in trouble?"

She laughed, "No. I'm friends with everyone in this unit. No one will tell on me… especially not when I tell them you're my brother."

I thought about it, "Okay… just as long as you're sure you won't get in trouble."

She smiled, "I'm sure. Just let me change into my bathrobe."

I nodded and waited for her to step behind the changing panel in the room and step out in a robe. She grabbed her showering bag and she led me out of the room and down the hall. The bathroom was small, she wasn't kidding. I saw on toilet like she suggested and she stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower option. Her robe came out and she hung it on the wall next to her towel and she began to bathe.

"So, how are the cousins?" I asked.

She sighed, "Difficult. When mom died they wanted to know if she had left them anything. Of course she didn't have anything to leave even us, but when I told them no they insisted in attending the reading of the will."

I frowned, "And?"

"They left enraged that she hadn't thought of them before she died. I can't even begin to tell you how angry I was, John."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. When I told them that I had been hired by White Star, I told them that I would be selling most of our unimportant stuff, packing all of our valuables –and all of your valuables since I knew you would want them – and that I would be using the money I made to pay for a new home over in America."

"And how did they take that?"

"Oh they were so mad! You should have seen their faces."

I laughed with her then we fell silent. It was only then that I noticed that there was no engine sound. "Why have the engines stopped?"

"We're in port in Ireland."

"Oh."

"We'll be leaving for America in the morning."

I smiled, "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

I looked down at my watch and I saw that is was very late. I felt my heart drop. I had to go back to my room or Henry might get angry for me waking him up. Looking over to the curtained tub, I said "I have to go."

"So soon?"

"Yeah. It's almost ten."

"Oh. I understand." Peaking from around the curtain she gave me a smile, "I'll see you tomorrow. Can you find your way back?"

"Yes."

Giving me another smile she said, "I love you, brother."

"I love you too."

Leaving the bathroom, I made my way down the hallway passing only one man. He was tall and wearing a suit, so I assumed he is a server. I said hello to him, and I left the servant's passage and made by way back to my room.

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

A few minutes after John left, the door opened again. Smiling I said, "Did you forget something?"

Looking out from around the curtain, I saw a man who wasn't John but in fact Sherlock Holmes.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked at me and seemed surprise to find me here. Ignoring that he replied, "I'm hiding. Don't mind me, just keep showering."

Hesitantly I released the curtain and I continued to bathe.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

Dinner was almost unbearable. The only saving grace I appeared to have was the appearance of Mr Thomas Andrews the designer of the Titanic. He was seated across from me, and didn't seem at all interested in the topic Mycroft had set forth on accumulating wealth in gold investment. Instead, Mr Andrews said, "How are you liking the ship so far?"

I smiled, "She's beautiful, Mr Andrews." I meant it.

He smiled, "Thank you. I can't even begin to tell you the nerves I'm going through."

"What? About her maiden voyage? Nonsense! She's working wonderfully."

Mr Andrews frowned, "Yes, but I'm afraid of how she'll move once we get her out into open sea. Tomorrow is the real test, and I want her to pass."

Smiling I said, "And she will, with flying colors."

"I do hope so."

I studied him for a moment, saw that he was fidgeting with his knife and fork and seemed distracted. I frowned, "It's not the performance of the Titanic that is bothering you."

He looked up at me, shocked, "H-How did you know?"

"I'm very observant," I replied, "But what is really bothering you?"

Mr Andrews blushed, "I shouldn't say. I don't want to worry you or anyone else."

"The lifeboats."

His eyes widened, "Keep your voice down, for pity's sake!" Eye the length of the table to make sure no one else had heard, he then asked, "How did you know?"

"You're the creator of the ship. This ship has been tested in the water, and she runs fine. It is logical to be nervous on her maiden voyage, but you know that she functions smoothly, so there is nothing wrong with the machinery. You know that she is beautifully decorated and stocked, so rations aren't your worry. The crew has been carefully picked by Captain Smith, who has been sailing with White Star for many years, so you know there is nothing to worry about them. If it is not the electric wiring in the ship, which again I'm sure you were sure to make sure, was correct in ever light installment then it must be something to do with the outside. The deck is smooth, so there is no worry of wear and tear, especially since the deck is brand new. However, there is the idea that if the unsinkable ship really were sinkable there would be a problem. There are obviously not enough lifeboats out on the desks to accommodate all of the passengers on board. So how many are there?"

Mr Andrews looked shocked, then answered, "We have enough… to save… at most half the passengers of Titanic… should she sink…."

"Which it shouldn't." I said reassuringly.

Mr Andrews nodded, "Right. I built the Titanic. She's unsinkable."

"Is my brother challenging your work," asked Mycroft with a small laugh, "Please excuse him if he is. He thinks he knows better than everyone."

With a forced smile I replied, "No, Mycroft… just better than you."

Mycroft forced a laugh, "Please excuse our sibling rivalry. It is still strong between us."

The table laughed, but Mummy gave both of us a warning look. I sipped from my wine and shot Mycroft a smug look. One of our guests, a young heiress, smiled and said, "Oh Master Holmes, it must be so hard growing up with an elder brother like Mycroft."

I smiled at her, "Not at all, Miss Sara," I smiled, "And please, do call me Sherlock."

She smiled at me, a slight blush playing on her cheeks. I spent the rest of the dinner flirting with her, finding different ways to make her blush. Mycroft sent dirty looks from his spot and insisted on saying small reminding comments to me like "I'm sure you are excited to see your fiancée?" But that didn't stop me. By the end of dinner, I had the heiress eating out of the palm of my hand. For pudding, she moved over to sit by me. We spent the rest of our time in a hushed conversation, complete with giggles and smiles. When pudding was over, our party began to break up.

Sara sighed, "I should be getting back to my room. It's very late."

"I'll walk you." I said. We both stood and I offered her my arm.

"Um, Sherlock," said Mycroft, "Shouldn't you stay here? With Mother and I?"

"Worried I won't make it back?" I gave Sara a playful smile and she giggled.

"Mind yourself, Sherlock," said Mycroft, "Wouldn't want your fiancée to hear any stories."

"My fiancée shall have nothing to worry about, Mycroft. I am simply accompanying Miss Sara to her room."

We left before Mycroft could say anything more. As we left I gave one last glance at the table and saw Mycroft talking to a servant, probably ordering more wine. I walked Sara back to her room and kissed her hand before bidding her goodnight. Turning, I saw the same serving Mycroft had been talking to in the dining room. I walked down the hall, passing him like I didn't know who he was. His nametag read _Moriarty_.

I made to go back to my room, and he followed. With a sly smile of my face, I picked up speed as I rounded a corner, joining a group of porters. I kept my head down as Moriarty passed and I didn't let my guard down until I was sure I had lost him. However, I didn't get far before I spotted Mycroft searching the halls. I ducked down a servant passage and went to the end. As I tried to look calm, a man came out from one of the closed doors. My heart raced as he came closer, and I hoped he wouldn't direct me back to the hallway with my brother. But as he passed, he said a quick "hello" and I was free. I went to the door he came out of and I quickly entered finding myself in a bathroom.

A voice laughed, "Did you forget something?"

I turned and was greeted by a face looking out from behind the curtain of the bath. It was my maid.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I'm hiding. Don't mind me, just keep showering." She hesitated and I sighed, "I won't try anything to hurt you or your virtue, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I wasn't-"

"I know."

She gave a smile and closed the curtain, the sound of her moving in the water came, and I let out a small sigh. Leaning against the counter, I asked, "Was that your important person who came out of here? The one you were preoccupied about?"

"Yes."

I nodded, "So… is he your… boyfriend? Fiancée? Lover?"

"Brother."

"Brother" I didn't think of that one. "I see."

"Thank you for letting me see him."

I shrugged even though she couldn't see it, "I needed you out of the way." There was silence between us, then I asked, "What is your name?"

"Cecilia Watson, sir."

"No need to sir me here… you're off work. Call me Sherlock."

"Yes, Sherlock."

I could tell from her voice that she was smiling.

"Did you have a nice dinner?" She asked.

"The food was wonderful, yes. Thank you… and you?"

"It was good, thank you."

"What-"

I didn't get to answer. A knock came from the door, and my heart stopped. Had Moriarty found me?

"Who is it?" Cecilia asked.

"It's Anderson."

"Hello! It's Cee, do you need the room?"

"No. Who are you talking to?"

"Oh! You remember me telling you I had a brother on board. Say hello to Anderson, John."

I hesitated for a moment, then said, "Hello."

"John's just catching me up with his life."

"It's nice to meet you, John," said Anderson, "I hope to run into you again. Preferably not through a door."

I let out a laugh, "Yes, let's hope."

Anderson gave the door two quick taps, "Have a good night."

"Night!" Called Cecilia. She stayed in the water for a moment longer, then turned it off. She reached for her towel and then her robe before stepping out from behind the curtain. She had her showering supplies with her, and she stood before me for a moment before saying, "You can come to my cabin and stay there for a while… if you're still keen on hiding."

I nodded, "Yes. I would appreciate that."

She smiled, and I allowed her to move in front of me to the door. I followed her out into the passage way and up it. She stopped in front of a door and opened it, allowing me to enter. She was stopped however. I pressed myself against the wall next to the door, trying to hid myself in case the person looked in.

"Hello Jim. Are you looking for someone?"

"Actually yes, I am. I'm looking for Master Sherlock Holmes. Have you seen him?"

"No… not since I left his room before dinner."

"Well if you happen to run into him, please let him know that his brother Mycroft is looking for him."

"I will."

"Goodnight Cecilia."

"Goodnight, Jim."

Cecilia came into the room and closed the door. She gave me a smile and moved behind the changing panels. I took a seat at the table, and let out another sigh and relaxed.

**AN: How is it so far? Please let me know if you like it, if I can improve, how you feel in general. Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

When she stepped out from behind the changing panels she was dressed in her night clothes with a robe. She blushed a little as she moved around the tiny cabin. I sat in a chair by the door watching her. Her blush deepened as she felt my gaze on her. Finally she said, "Can I get you anything, Sherlock?"

I shook my head, "Nothing I can't get myself. You're not on duty or shift… you don't have to get anything."

She nodded and took the seat next to me. I watched as her night gown was relieved a bit, falling over her breasts, parts of it clinging to the still damp parts of her body. I caught a glimpse of her hardened nipples and I looked away as the overwhelming want to suckle one in my mouth washed over me. I shifted oddly in my seat, and she seemed to have caught on to my line of sight because she folded her arms over herself. The blush in her cheeks deepened to a brilliant red.

"Don't blush," I said softly, "You have nothing to be embarrassed of… it's my doing."

"I'm not blushing because I'm embarrassed, sir."

"Then why?"

Her blush deepened, "I've… never had anyone… look… at me like you do."

I looked at her, and she looked back

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

I felt fluttering in my chest and I couldn't stop it. Sherlock's gaze moved over my face and down my body, over my breasts still being held in place by my crossed arms. The tension between us was powerful, and it made me squirm in my seat. I stood, and so did he and we continued looking at each other, none of our new gazes daring to go below the neck.

"I'm… going to make some tea," I said, "W-would you like some?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes."

I nodded and moved to him, allowing him to grab me, bringing us to a kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he had his around my waist. He turned, putting me between him and a wall. I ran my hands through his hair and his hands ran across my back pressing me firmer against him. The kiss lasted a moment longer, then we broke for breath. I moved my hands to Sherlock's chest, and used them to keep him from kissing me again.

"What-"

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry, sir." I felt myself put up walls between the two of us, falling into the maid role I am used to.

"Cecilia… please-"

"No, sir. I'm afraid we can't." Looking up at him, I smiled, "I'll get you that tea now, sir."

"You don't have to sir me."

I pulled myself out of his grasp and went to the door. "I'll only be a moment, sir."

Sherlock frowned, "Never mind. I'm going back to my room. I'm going to have to face Mycroft sooner or later." Straightening himself out, he went to the door, "Goodnight Cecilia."

I curtseyed, "Goodnight, sir."

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

I walked to my room, numb. It wasn't a sad or heartbroken numb, but a numb of confusion. What happened?

One moment we're sitting, then snogging, then nothing. I understand the hesitation on her part. She would be fired. But she kissed back. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. She practically initiated it. I didn't understand why though. Why did this happen? I've never kissed anyone like that. I've never wanted anyone this badly. I've had countless women, all of them more than willing to let me have my way with them. But never did I want one more than for just company. I felt differently with Cecilia. I wanted to be hers. I wanted her to be mine.

As I turned down the hallway that led to my suite, I realized what was wrong. I was burned because I didn't have her. She denied me what I wanted, not it's all I want in the world. I also realized that I was confused because I've only known her for a day and already these feelings have grown far too intense for my liking.

Having emotions for lovers is not my area.

Stopping before my door, I ran my fingers over my lips, remembering how it felt to have hers pressed against them. Dropping my hand, I sighed, and opened the suite door.

_John Watson's Point of View_

"You've got a looker of a sis, mate." Henry said from his top bunk. "She came by this afternoon… jus' thought I'd get tha' off me chest before we set sail."

I didn't know how to respond to that. So I settled with, "Okay."

"She comin' back?"

I shrugged, even though I knew he wouldn't see it. "She works on the ship… I doubt once we set sail she'll have much time for visiting."

"What cha' goin' to America fo'?"

"I'm a doctor…. I'm looking for a job."

"I'm the same. Not a doc o' course, but I'm lookin' fer a better life. Adventure, ya' know?"

"I know."

A knock came at the door and I sat up.

"You expectin' anyone?"

I shook my head but got up and answered the door. Outside was a young woman and an older man, both carrying suitcases.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, Mike Stamford, this here is my friend Mary Morstan."

"H-Hello."

"We're staying here." Showing me his ticket I saw our cabin number and gave a nod before moving aside. I turned on the light for them.

"Oi," called Henry, "Turn the bloody light off, ya nutter!"

"Henry, we have bunk mates."

He raised his head and gave them a smile, "'Ello, 'Enry Night."

Mike and Mary smiled and introduced themselves.

"Sorry for being so late," Mary said smiling, "We got held up in the inspection line."

"I gave them our service papers saying we were clean, but they _insisted _on examining us anyway," Mike gave a grunt.

"You have service papers," I asked, "You're in the medical field?"

Mike nodded, "Yes. Studied in London before moving to Scotland, then to Ireland."

"Where did you study?"

"St. Bartholomew's."

"No joking! I studied there." I held out my hand, "John Watson."

"Watson? Weren't you in Dr. Hamill's class?"

"Yes, I was."

"I was in Dr. Fisher's!"

I smiled, "Brilliant! How are you doing?"

"Well, personally, I'm fine. But I'm moving in search of a job. Yourself?"

"I'm about the same. As an army doctor I'm over qualified for a job in English clinics."

"By George, you were in the army?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"Well congratulations on your safe return."

I smiled, 'Not so safe," I patted my leg, "Wounded before return."

Mike frowned, "Sorry to hear that."

"It's all good. Do you need any help settling in?"

"No, no," said Mike, "We're both dead tired."

I nodded, "All right."

Sitting down on my bunk, I watched Mary as she unpacked essentials before moving behind a towel held up by Mike to change. She had fair skin and a healthy figure. Her hair was a soft blond and it was up in a tuck-under-bun. She was beautiful. I laid down and tried to act like I was asleep while I waited for her to come out. She sat on her bunk opposite mine and I looked through my lashes at her. With her hair down, and the blur caused by my lashes, she looked like an angel.

"Lights out," said Mike softly before turning the light off.

Closing my eyes, I fell asleep.

A soft knock was what woke me up. Rubbing the sleep out of my eye, I stood and hobbled my way over to the door. Opening it, a very official man stood behind it.

"John Watson?"

I nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

"Detective Inspector – er – Chief Lestrad. I need you to come with me."

"Might I dress first?"

"Yes, of course."

Closing the door, I scrambled into clothes, noticing everyone was gone. Opening the door again, Chief Lestrad nodded for me to follow him. Limping along with my cane, I moved as fast as I could behind Lestrad. We went up a few flights of stairs and an elevator before reaching an official looking room where I was asked to sit down.

"Where were you last night at ten?"

I looked at him, "Am I in trouble, sir?"

"Not at the moment, no. Please answer the question."

"I… was… with my sister. She's an employee on board."

Lestrad frowned, "And, what is your sister's name?"

"Cecilia Watson."

Lestrad nodded and wrote down my answer, "Where on the ship were you?"

"I was with her in her cabin. We haven't seen each other in a few years… we were catching up."

"Why haven't you seen each other?"

"I have been in Afghanistan. I'm an army doctor."

"There's no war in Afghanistan."

"I was stationed there for the small amount of British troops and civilians that are still there. The British army plans on pulling out the remaining troops in light of Germany's current movement in the west."

Lestrad nodded, " I see. Now, is there anyone else who can verify you being with your sister?"

I shook my head, "Not that I know of…. I'm sorry, but are you sure I'm not in trouble?"

Lestrad frowned and pulled out a battered book. I recognized it at once. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's… it's mine…. It's a collection of poetry."

"This was found next to a man who was murdered last night."


	6. Chapter 6

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

I fought back tears as I re-entered the Holmes suite only to be cornered by Mycroft. "Come with me." Taking my arm, he dragged me through the drawing room and out onto their private promenade deck. Closing the door, he wheeled around to me.

"I will not tolerate criminals, Miss Watson," he said, "Now, I will go to your boss and request that you be removed from our service at once if you do not tell me why the chief of the on-deck police asked for you at _my _suite!"

I found myself backing away from him a bit, my emotional state making it difficult to keep my composure. Swallowing I said, "I-It's my brother, sir…. H-He's been accused of murder…." I paused to hold back more tears, "I was asked to provide an alibi for him. They're following up on it now."

"A murdering brother! Oh that's rich. I never would have _dreamed _that White Star would allow a murderer's sister to work for their staff-"

"He didn't do it! He was with me last night." I couldn't hold my tears back any longer and they flowed freely down my face along with all sense of control I had left. I now chocked on sobs as I repeated, "He didn't do it…." I buried my face in my hands and turned away from the elder Holmes brother, not wanting him to watch me cry.

Mycroft sighed and came over to me, placing his hands on my shoulders, pulling me into an odd hug, "Cecilia…. I'm sorry." He rubbed my back soothingly. "I'm sorry you are going through this. I'm sorry to have put more stress on your shoulders." Turning me to him, he lift my chin making me look at him, "I'm here for you, Cecilia…. I'm here for you no matter what." He cupped his hands around my face and used his thumbs to wipe my tears away. "You can trust me, Cecilia."

I looked up at him and I gave a smile. He leaned in as if to kiss me, but I began nodding and moved out of his grasp, "Thank you, sir."

Looking stunned, he recovered quickly saying, "Please… call me Mycroft. I want you to feel at home with us."

I nodded again and I wiped my face clean with my apron before saying, "Thank you for your kindness Master Mycroft. It… it means a lot."

Mycroft smiled.

"I need to tend to Master Holmes's room," I said, dabbing at my eyes again. I gave him a smile and left him on the deck, entering the drawing room, and knocked on Sherlock's door, "Master Holmes… are you awake?"

"He had better be, it's almost eleven." Said his mother from the couch. I turned and curtseyed at her and Mrs Hudson both of whom were having tea.

The door behind me opened a bit and I pushed it open all the way entering the room. The lights were off, but a soft light was coming from the windows on the immediate right wall. Sherlock was in bed, curled away from me. I almost backed out when he said, "No. Stay in. And close the door behind you."

Silently, I did as I was told and stood off to the side waiting for further instructions. I tried to keep myself composed, but my heart was still heavy in my chest, and tears continued to fill my eyes. I sniffed and wiped my nose quickly before going back to my waiting pose. Sherlock rolled over and looked at me. Getting up, he looked at me, then said, "What's wrong? Did my brother bully you?" His tone was harsh.

I shook my head, "No… he did nothing."

"He was shouting quite a bit." He motioned for the window with the crack in the curtains.

I was shocked that he had watched, but I said, "Yes… he was quite upset."

"Why?"

"Chief Lestrade came to ask me questions." Tears welled in my eyes.

"Why?"

A tear slipped, "There was a murder last night…. John – my brother – he-"

"A murder? Really?" Sherlock's gaze brightened a bit.

I nodded, "M-My brother, sir… he's been accused of being the murderer."

"Well is he?"

I looked up at him, shocked, "No! Of course not! My brother would _never _kill anyone."

"Just a question, hope you don't mind." Sherlock moved around taking off his clothes, getting dressed excitedly.

"Sir… I must say you seem a bit excited-"

"Excited? Ecstatic! I thought I'd _never _be able to do this again."

"Do what, sir?"

He dashed over and gripped my shoulders, "Solve murders!"

Letting go of me, I stood in shock as he danced away, pulling his night-shirt off grabbing a purple button-up shirt and putting it on. A feeling of numb hope washed over me. Moving forward, I took Sherlock's hands and forced him to look at me, "Will you help John?" Tears formed a new in my eyes, "Please?"

Taking my hands, he said, "I will try to solve the case as I can… but I am not sure I can prove your brother's innocence."

"But… you _will _help then?"

"Yes. I will."

Smiling, I went to hug him, but instead settled with, "Thank you, sir… thank you so much."

"Take me to Lestrade."

I nodded, "Yes, sir."

He finished buttoning his shirt, and put on a black jacket and slacks before walking out of his room. I followed and moved with him to the door.

"And where do you think you are going?" asked Mrs Holmes.

"To solve a crime, Mother."

"You most certainly are not!"

"Good day, Mother… Mrs Hudson."

Mrs Hudson gave him a hidden wink and replied, "Good day, Sherlock."

_Sherlock Holmes's Point of View_

I followed Cecilia to the police chief's room where she stood aside allowing me to knock. She made to leave, but I caught her arm and held her near me. A man opened the door and I entered the room not waiting to be invited in. "Chief Lestrade… my name is Sherlock Holmes. I've come to assist you in solving your murder."

Lestrade stared at me then said, "Excuse me, sir, but _who _are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, but I'm afraid you are mistaken, you can offer no help to me."

I looked at him and smiled. "You're the chief of the police staff on board, but you are not used to being addressed as such. Which implies that you held a higher position when you worked for the London police? No! The Scotland Yard. You're used to handling murders and aren't shaken by having to deal with one while on board a ship. You know the two most important things about solving a murder and that is to keep the news quiet and to solve the crime quickly, so that puts you at a very high position. Not head of the Yard, no, they would never give him up that easy. So that makes me think you were a detective inspector – or you _were_. Now you're probably wondering how I got that. Well it's obvious in the way you hold yourself. You stand tall, but there is a slight hunch in your back, probably from you carrying the weight of the horrors you've seen on your back-"

"Enough!" Lestrade said, "Enough…. How can you know all of that?"

"It's what I do." I gave him a smug smile, "I call it the Science of Deduction."

Lestrade stood still, looking from me to Cecilia. Then he said, "Alright… why do you want to help?"

"Well you want to solve the crime quickly."

"Yes… and how do you think you will help me?"

"Chief Lestrade, I must beg your pardon, but if I can deduce what I did just by looking at you, imagine what a crime scene can tell me?"

Lestrade gave a curt nod. "All right." Turning to Cecilia he said, "Miss Watson… I hope you didn't put him up to this."

She shook her head, "Not at all, sir."

"Then why are you here?"

She opened her mouth for a moment, the she said, "I've… I've remembered more from last night. I have more proof that my brother is innocent."

"I'll be the judge of that."

She looked at me, then she said, "While we were in the shower room…. John Anderson knocked on the door… he spoke with John."

"Can John and Anderson prove that?"

"Yes." She looked nervous in her answer though Lestrade saw none of that.

"Right." He went behind his desk and raised an ear piece to a phone, "Hello? Yes, can you send John Anderson to my office? Thank you." Putting the piece down, he looked at us, "I'll talk to John while we wait. Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Please come with me. Miss Watson can wait for Anderson."

I nodded and followed him into a back room where there was a brig area. In one of the jail cells was the young man I had passed in the servant's passage last night. He seemed to recognize me as well as he stood, but he turned his attention to Lestrade.

"Mr Watson," Lestrade began, "This here is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He will be assisting me in the case."

Turning to me John nodded, "Hello."

I nodded in return.

"Now your sister said there was a man you spoke to last night. If you can give me his name, I'll believe your story, and let you go, but you'll still be a suspect. Do you understand?"

John nodded. His eyes tightened, showing his stress. I caught his attention by wiping my nose then mouthed, _Anderson_ to him, and he repeated it allowed for Lestrade.

"Anderson… I believe the man's name was Anderson."

Lestrade looked at him and nodded. "Give me five minutes."

John nodded but remained still, looking from him to me. Lestrade turned to leave and John mouthed 'Thank you' to me. I gave a nod and followed Lestrade out of the room. A man was waiting with Cecilia, no doubt Anderson. Lestrade shook his hand and asked him if he remembered what he had done last night, when he had done them, then the real question came:

"Do you remember talking to Cecilia last night, Mr Anderson?"

Anderson looked from him, to me, to Cecilia then said, "Yes… she was in the shower room. I knocked on the door because I heard her talking to someone."

"And was she?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes… her brother John was there. He said hello to me."

Lestrade looked to Cecilia then to his notepad. He heaved a sigh, and looked up at Anderson, smiling. "Thank you, Mr Anderson. That's all I need."

Anderson nodded and looked to Cecilia with a small smile before leaving. Entering the backroom again, Lestrade returned followed by John Watson.

"Mr Watson, I am letting you go. You appear to be innocent, but please remember to act with caution from now on. You are still a suspect, and I will appreciate if you heed that."

John Watson nodded and replied, "Yes, sir."

"You're free to go."

Cecilia came over and hugged her brother, who hugged her back. They moved out into the hall and I followed, giving Lestrade a motion that I would only be a moment. They moved through the ship, going to Cecilia's room. I followed, entering only when Cecilia invited me in.

"Oh, John," Cecilia said again, hugging him.

"Why did you lie?" John asked.

"Well… technically I didn't."

"What?"

Coming over I said, "I was in the shower room with her last night. Anderson knocked on the door and Cecilia covered for me saying that I was your brother."

"You… you were in the shower room with Cecilia?" John asked.

"Yes, I wa-"

His fist collided with the side of my face and I fell over landing on the table for support. Cecilia gasped and jumped in between us, trying to stop her brother.

"John stop! He's okay!"

John Watson backed down allowing me to stand while I cupped my cheek. He still had a loathing look on his face, but Cecilia ignored that.

"John, this is Sherlock Holmes…. I'm assigned to his suite. He's agreed to help prove that you're innocent."

John looked from her to me, to her, then back to me again. His look softened and he said, "I'm sorry about that…. I'm protective, you see-"

"No offence taken." I said, "I would have done the same, had it been my sister."

John nodded and held out his hand, "Dr John Watson."

Taking it I replied, "Sherlock Holmes. It's nice to meet you Dr Watson."

**AN: Okay, Sherlock and Dr Watson are together now! YAY! Please let me know what you think about this fanfiction. It's my first _Sherlock_ fanfiction, so I'm worried about the characters and the plot. So please don't be shy!**


	7. Chapter 7

_Dr John Watson's Point of View_

Cecilia made us tea while we sat in her room. Sherlock asked me questions about last night and about my life.

"You were in the military?" He asked, sipping from his tea.

I nodded, "Yes. Did Cecilia tell you?"

"No… you did."

I frowned, "No I didn't."

Sherlock smiled, "When we were in the brig, you stood straight at a relaxed attention which suggests that you are used to dealing with figures of authority. Your hair is still cut short in the military standards, and even now you're eyeing me up. Your face and hands are tan, but not above the wrists, which suggests you've been outside for long periods of time, but not sun bathing. My only question is where you were stationed? With the movement in Germany, you can't have been stationed at home, not enough sun to tan you. My guess is desert location, but that wouldn't make sense because Britain pulled out of Afghanistan years ago. Ah… unless…" he smiled at me, "Unless there are still soldiers and civilians left behind…. You're an army doctor stationed in Afghanistan to tend to the British civilians who stayed behind."

I looked at him with my jaw slightly agape, and my tea half raised. Cecilia placed her hand on my arm, pushing the cup back onto the saucer. Then she flattened her hand against the bottom of my chin and pushed up, closing my mouth. It was when my moth closed that I recovered enough to say, "That… was… fantastic."

Sherlock smiled, "Really?"

I nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Well, it's what I do."

I nodded and turned to Cecilia who was looking at Mr Sherlock Holmes. I took a moment to see that she was enamored with him. I frowned and knew that when this voyage was over and he left to God-knows-where, she will be crushed that he left her.

Looking back at Sherlock I asked, "Does my being a military doctor affect my situation?"

"Yes and no." Sherlock sipped from his tea, "No, because you were only a doctor stationed in a non-war territory. Yes, because you _do _have the military training, and there is a stigma that is placed around military men that they are comfortable with violence."

"But that's wrong!" said Cecilia, "How can they think that?"

"It's cruel but true," Sherlock sighed, "However… I can convince Lestradee to let you help me during our investigation."

I frowned, "Help how?"

"You're a doctor, yes?"

"Yes."

"A good one?"

"Excellent."

"You're used to seeing grim injuries and dead bodies."

"Yes."

"Then you'll make a great assistant." He smiled as he finished his tea.

Cecilia smiled, "Thank you again, sir…. You don't know what this means."

Sherlock smiled, though it looked forced. He probably was doing this to get her off his back with nagging. I should have known no first class passenger would help me from the goodness of their hearts.

Setting down his tea, our guest said, "Now, Dr Watson, shall we go visit the scene of the crime?"

Setting my own cup down I nodded, "Yes."

"Excellent! I shall go explain to Lestrade that you are to help me with the case as my _own _medical advisor."

"Sh-shall I?"

"Yes. I'll need to begin right away." Standing, he added, "Thank you for tea, Cecilia. We'll be on our way now. You may go back to your regular duties."

I watched my sister curtsey and open the door for us. Sherlock Holmes walked through, but I stopped, taking the door from her, forcing her out. I closed the door and glared at our companion as we walked toward the area where the unfortunate soul was found. Cecilia game my arm a squeeze as she parted, and I was forced to be alone with Mr Holmes.

I followed Sherlock to the state rooms in first class, looking around at the elegance of the ship which was nothing like I've ever seen before. Mr Holmes looked back at me, and I tried to feign disinterest, but a small twitch of his lips made me think he could see through me. Lestrade met us outside the room, arriving by some strange coincidence.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… what's he doing here," he asked pointing at me, "You can't bring the prime suspect into a crime scene!"

Sherlock looked at me then said, "Dr Watson is my medical advisor."

"Medical advisor? What on earth for?"

"I am no expert on death or medical anomalies. Dr Watson is an army doctor who has experience with all sorts of injuries imaginable. He is simply here to answer any of my questions."

"He doesn't touch anything without proper supervision."

"Well then, after you, sir." Said Sherlock, motioning for Lestrade to open the door in front of us.

The cop frowned and pulled out a set of keys that he used to unlock the doors allowing Sherlock and myself entrance. The front room was even more beautiful than the corridors. I allowed myself a quick look around the room before looking at the floor and the massive blood stain that was nestled into the fibers. I studied it, and looked to Sherlock who was in a corner, looking at the wall.

"What do you make of the scene, Mr Watson?" Lestrade asked. My name (and lack of title) received a sharp emphasis.

"He bled out, obviously," I said, feeling a bit nervous, like I was being tested, "His throat was slit from behind, then he fell backwards and bled out onto the floor."

Lestrade frowned, "And how do you know that?"

Using my cane, I pointed at the rainbow of blood splatter on the wall, "That arch is about at neck height for the average male, and it is undisturbed. If the attacker came at him from the front, there would be a gap where the splatter hit the front of the killer."

Sherlock watched from the corner, a look of amusement on his face. Lestrade on the other hand simply nodded, "And they teach you that in military training then?"

I shrugged, "If we came upon a crime in the middle of no-man's-land or in enemy territory, we have to decide if the situation is hostile, military, or accidental. We go over basic crime scene analysis in training, yes."

Lestrade nodded again, and then looked to Sherlock, "And what are _you _doing?"

"Observing," the man replied as his eyes swept across nick-knacks, "He only just finished unpacking, arranging his things, putting his books away. No doubt, he had come back from dinner when he was attacked."

Lestrade pulled out a notebook and flipped a few pages before nodding, "Yes… he was found shortly after the second shift started. Peter Browning, his man servant found him."

"Anything else found with him other than the book?"

"No. No fibers, no bruises, just the gash across his neck."

Sherlock nodded, his mouth twitching as if he were fighting a smile, "Thank you, Lestrade… you have been of great help."

Lestrade nodded.

"May we see the victim's body and clothes?"

Lestrade nodded again, "He's in a walk in freezer in one of the kitchens."

We nodded, letting him lead the way, pausing only to wait for the officer to lock the door.

_Cecilia Watson's Point of View_

Opening the suite door, I was instantly grabbed by my arm and forced outside. Molly and Sally watched in masked shock from where they stood in the corners. Being pushed onto the promenade deck, I caught myself in the railing before turning to Mycroft who closed the door.

"Where is my brother?"

"H-He's with Officer Lestrade."

"Why?"

"He's offered to help solve a crime that has been committed on board."

Mycroft covered his face with his hands and heaved a sigh, "Of course he would…" He swiped his hands down and looked at me, "I am sorry, Cecilia… I don't mean to be so harsh with you. It's just… we can't afford to have him go around making a public spectacle of himself or our family."

"He's only trying to help, sir," I said, trying to ignore my anger at being dragged out here again, "He says that he's quite good at solving crimes."

Mycroft scoffed, "'Quite good,' indeed. Yes, he's quite good at making our family look like a working class family."

I fought hard not to frown or say something in response, instead I said, "If I may be so bold, sir, but you and your family are going to be on this ship for a while. Why not let your brother have a bit of fun?"

"Mycroft smiled, "A bit of fun, eh? He's got to you…. The case he's working on is your brother's isn't it?"

A blushed formed on my cheeks and I dropped his gaze.

"I should have seen it," coming over to me, he reached out and placed his hands on my waist, "If you needed help, you should have come to _me_."

"I didn't really go to him, sir… he sort of imposed-"

"Yes, I understand," he said, "However… my mother might not."

Looking up at him, I frowned, "Mrs Holmes, sir?"

"I could… help you out – should she blame you – if you want."

"Why would she blame me?"

"Well, Sherlock has always been somewhat of a favorite to her… in her mind it would have been _you _who made him upset her."

I frowned harder, "But I-"

"I know you didn't… and I can help convince her you had nothing to do with this. All you have to do is one small thing."

"What?"

Mycroft smiled, "Well… you are a _very_ pretty woman, Cecilia. And since you only have your _brother_ on board, I should imagine that you are very lonely."

"I'm not lonely."

Pulling me closer, I suppressed a gasp as our bodies touched. Leaning in a bit, Mycroft replied, "Not yet."

I gasped (not being able to hide my reaction) and he mistook it for a sound of approval, for he leaned in a kissed me. I tried to push away from him, but he held me firmly in place. His mouth moved over mine, his tongue sliding across my lips for entrance. I didn't respond, and eventually he pulled away.

"You _could _have been more responsive," he said, "After all; I am the one saving your _job._"

I took a moment to collect myself before replying, "I'm _sorry_, sir, I… wasn't expecting it."

Mycroft nodded, "Quite right."

Letting me go, he placed a kiss on my cheek and left for the door. Leaving me on the deck, I took a moment to fix myself before entering the main room.

"Where is my son?" Mrs Holmes asked, waiting for me.

"He is with Officer Lestrade, Mum." I replied.

"Why?"

"He's helping him solve-"

"Oh! That boy! That stupid boy!" She turned away from me, moving to sit down, but came back, "You…_you _lead him thee… this is _your _fault!"

"Mine, Mum?"

"Sherlock would never have upset me like this without encouragement."

"With all due respect, he confided in me that he used to do this when he was in London-"

"What does this have to do with you ruining my son?"

"W-well it seems as if he is continuing his passion and helping Officer Lestrade-"

"His _passion_? His passion – listen to _me_. You are a _servant_ on this boat, _my _servant on this boat, and I _can _and _will_ fire you if you continue to corrupt my son!"

"Mother," said Mycroft, "Mother, please. Perhaps the girl is speaking the truth… maybe Sherlock is acting on his own."

Mrs Holmes turned to her oldest son, then back to me.

"I want Sherlock to come back to me the _moment_ he enters this suite."

I nodded, "Yes. Mum."

Turning away from me, she muttered to herself as she went to her room, closing the door a little too hard behind her. I turned to Mycroft who smiled at me. Nodding, he mouthed "Later" before turning away from me, following his mother into her room.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to go into Sherlock's room, finding it (as I had hoped) a mess. Fighting back tears, I proceeded to clean.


End file.
